


Danger Of A Certain Kind

by thegirlnamedcove



Series: Premeditated Violence [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Biting, Casual BDSM, Casual Sex, College, Dom/sub, Internalized Homophobia, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, M/M, Misunderstandings, Prequel, Under-negotiated Kink, and if you read the first two sections, beta shift sex, but it's very mild, inexperienced kink, no one is in love here, sterek is/was endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 02:45:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13754604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlnamedcove/pseuds/thegirlnamedcove
Summary: Stiles had gotten reckless, that much he could say for sure. The thing about discretion is it requires practice and the shifters in his life didn’t seem at all familiar with that concept. Scott had had two years to adjust, and so had Isaac and Boyd and Erica. They might recognize, on a social level, that reading scents was invasive but they were more than acclimated by that point and they didn’t care anymore. Not really.And when no one around you cared what you got up to, well...you fell out of practice hiding things.





	Danger Of A Certain Kind

**Author's Note:**

> The first two pieces to this series are 100% porn, but they're plot relevant porn, and you are going to need to at least read "Open Your Mouth" for context before reading this one.

Move in day at Berkeley was a fluster of activity and noise. The trip from Beacon Hills only took three hours, nothing really, but thanks to his pack all gathering in his driveway that morning, extending the goodbye by any method possible, he showed up late for registration anyway. Outside his new dorm dozens of fresh faced students swarmed the lawn, carrying suitcases and books and fending off tearful parents.

He pushed his way through the throngs of people, towards the haggard RA that was sitting at a folding card table.

“Name,” she barely looked up to acknowledge him when she spoke, and shoved a box of files in his direction.

“Um...Stilinski?”

She gestured at the box again and went back to filling in paperwork at a hand-cramping pace. He flipped through the files, eventually finding his in the C’s for some reason, and pulled it out just in time for her to jerk the box back in her direction.

“Your key, ID, and meal pass are in there, as well as information about the building. Your room will have a whiteboard on the door for communication with your roommate and floormates as well as a temporary nameplate. Officially there’s no sex or overnight visitors allowed, but I am not your mommy and I will not chase you around about it. Just don’t get me in trouble and I won’t get you in trouble. Oh,” she looked up, finally, and levelled him with a cold glare, “and for the love of god throw any beer or liquor bottles in the outside dumpster. The janitors here are snitches.”

“O-kay...um. I’m Stiles?”

She snorted, but offered, “Janice.”

And just like that he was a college student.

His room was, of course, on the eighth fucking floor, and the elevator had a line a mile long for people trying to bring up furniture, so by the time he found it he was sweating and out of breath and feeling incredibly gross. He leaned forward and braced himself on his knees, trying to get his wind back so he could make at least a decent impression. Berkeley would be absolutely nothing like high school, if he had anything to say about it. He would be cool, and composed, and only flail a little bit, even if he had to track down every pot dealer in the state to accomplish it, and oh my god he could buy pot here because his dad wasn’t the fucking sheriff, college was already the best.

It was with a goofy grin on his face that he finally looked up and saw Jake Bolanos, stocky and dark haired and smirking like crazy, leaning against the open door frame of Room 815.

“Having some trouble there, hoss?”

 

***

 

Jake was fucking beautiful.

It still made Stiles feel unsettled in his gut to think things like that about men, and he’d never said anything like it out loud. Not with how clear his dad had always made his position on the matter. But it was true, Jake was gorgeous, and only four days into the semester Stiles had already seen him naked seven times. He reminded Stiles of Derek in that way, seemingly totally averse to any kind of covering. Even the thinnest excuse, from the AC keeping the room above 75 to a tiny spot of mustard on his lapel, was enough excuse to whip his shirt over his head and show off a lean chest and impressive shoulders. Most mornings he wandered around in just thin cotton sleep shorts, barefoot and soft-looking, and Stiles couldn’t stop staring.

It turned out college was going to be a lot like high school.

Jake wasn’t quite another Lydia though. He was...fine, personality-wise. The same gross bro-dude with an xbox and loose flirtation with alcoholism that occupied every dorm room in America. But he wasn’t special. Wasn’t brave or brilliant or kind-hearted or stubborn. He was just...a guy.

Which made it a lot easier to deal with when he brought someone home the first weekend and pleaded with Stiles to give them some ‘privacy’. Stiles didn’t want to kick that guy out so he could have Jake all to himself. His attraction wasn't a jealous thing. He just wanted the option to tap in for round two. Possibly three.

He went and slept on the couch in the common room instead.

By the end of week two, he’d settled into a routine. Go to class three days a week, spend Friday evenings skyping with Scott, spend most other weekdays dicking around in the common room with a few of the other guys he’d met, and on Tuesdays, while Jake was in his coding class, jack off in his dorm-mate’s bed thinking about his dark skin and wide smile. Maybe turn his face into the blankets like a wolf and imagine he could pick out the scent of Jake’s sweat, his hair, his cum. He’d developed a lot of tendencies thanks to the pack, ones he didn’t think would be very easy to explain to his next partner.

He appreciated the sense of privacy, though, god did he ever. For the first time in years he didn't have to try and control his emotions. He could sit there playing Madden with Jake and imagining a graphic fantasy involving the two of them and a squirt bottle of baby oil and Jake wouldn't even blink twice because  _ Jake couldn't smell erections _ . It was magical.

Which is what made it so disappointing when he was finally caught out.

Stiles had gotten reckless, that much he could say for sure. The thing about discretion is it requires practice and the shifters in his life didn’t seem at all familiar with that concept. In Junior year Malia had wrinkled her nose during a pack meeting and leaned across Derek’s huge drafting table to get into Lydia’s space.

“You know you’re not supposed to douche, right? Fucks up your PH, puts you at risk for infection.”

Lydia’s face had gone slack, stricken and shocked for the first time in all the years Stiles had known her, and she’d fumbled around for any avenue out of the humiliation.

“I...I’m sorry for...trying to be  _ appealing _ , I--”

Malia snorted, “Yeah, no, you smell like vinegar and a Yankee Candle. Vaginas are supposed to smell like vaginas.”

And with that she shrugged and sat back, unbothered and unaware of what she’d just done to Lydia in front of everyone whose opinion she cared about.

Stiles usually assumed that any Malia related awkwardness was the result of her time spent feral, but that day as he cast his eyes around the room he noticed something weird. Or, rather, the lack of anything weird. Not a single born wolf had even looked up from what they were doing and Derek was even  _ nodding along _ . The bitten wolves were sitting straighter, like they were expecting an argument to break out any second, but they didn’t seem grossed out or truly uncomfortable with the subject matter.

It struck Stiles, as he sat there, that they could probably all smell it too. Vinegar and Yankee Candle. Most other days they could smell vagina. An image flashed through his mind of Scott standing in front of Melissa, chatting about their days, and being able to smell  _ vagina _ .

He felt a little nauseous with it, but Scott had had two years to adjust, and so had Isaac and Boyd and Erica. They might recognize, on a social level, that it was invasive but they were more than acclimated by that point and they didn’t care anymore. Not really.

And when no one around you cared what you got up to, well...you fell out of practice hiding things.

Jake and Stiles were hanging out in the dorm room when it happened, radio at full volume and windows thrown open as the last vestiges of summer took out their anger on southern California.

Jake was shirtless, of course, and splayed out on his belly, face tucked into the crook of his arm, and Stiles was watching the rise and fall of his shoulders as he panted. His dick was hard against his thigh, but his interest was languid in the growing heat and he didn’t feel like excusing himself to the communal showers to take care of it. Instead he pulled up a story on his phone that he’d been working his way through, mostly porn and a little bit of plot, and alternated reading about Hardison Garrick, alpha of his imaginary wolf pack, and glancing towards Jake’s prone form with speculative lust.

He knew “top” and “bottom” were reductive, and most people didn’t work that way, but he still wondered. How would Jake like it? Would he be meek and submissive, like the betas in the book? Looking for an alpha, a force of nature, even in bed? Or would he defy that expectation? What acts would he like, what scenes would he prefer? When he brought his next partner back to the dorm room what would they do?

He spent an hour like that, speculating while Jake dozed, occasionally trading jokes about a truly awful pop song that was playing, mostly reading, before his bladder insisted he take a break. He groaned as he sat up, sure that the erection was going to make the bathroom trip impossible, and set his phone down on the shared desk.

“Be right back dude,” he said, although he was pretty sure Jake was actually asleep by then.

In the halls, Janice the RA nodded at him and cracked a grin when he did a double take. She was never that friendly, with anyone, and he felt a mild panic creeping up on him as he tried to figure out why she’d start now.

“Chill, Stilinski,” she muttered, and then headed around the corner and down the hall, leaving him gaping after her.

By the time he’d picked his jaw up off the floor and finished up his business, a few more people had arrived back from class, and he ducked into his dorm room as quickly as he could and shut the door, hoping to dissuade any visitors from breaking the tranquil afternoon he’d enjoyed up till then.

On the bed by the door Jake was sitting up, against the headboard, fully awake now, and scrolling through a large smartphone in a bright blue case. Stiles crossed the room in a few steps, humming a tune to himself under his breath, before realizing just whose phone that was.

He spun towards Jake, cheeks flaming, and the man smiled wide and sharp before lifting it screen out to wave in Stiles’ direction. Just like he’d feared the book was still open, black text on a gray background, and if he remembered right it had been on an explicit scene. He blushed scarlet and dropped his head, wishing someone, somewhere, would pull the fire alarm and give him an excuse to leave.

“Interesting choice,” Jake started, his voice forced casual, like he didn’t care one way or the other, “But I hope you know it’s not realistic.”

Stiles frowned at that--of course he knew, it’s not like paranormal erotica was meant to be educational at $2.99 a pop on kindle--and reached forward, intending to snag his phone out of Jake’s fingers. He pulled back at the last second, and Stiles fumbled his hands, brushing against Jake’s bare chest instead.

“Yeah, I--”

“For one thing, we don’t have knots,” Jake said, and all the breath left Stiles’ lungs.

“You...what?” he managed, and his arm fell limp at his sides.

“Knots,” Jake shrugged. A smirk played around his lips, “On your phone, the story seemed pretty...focused on them. And I just wanted you to know real werewolves aren’t like that. One hundred percent human dick, and we still manage to have meaningful relationships.”

“I don't-- Werewolves?” he stuttered. His knees went watery and weak and he stepped back the two feet to his bed, sinking down to sit. “Werewolves aren't real.”

He knew his voice was weak, and Jake seemed to notice too, his smirk widening.

“They are though,” he said, “That alpha you hang out with can back me up.”

“ _ Scott?! _ ”

And, well, shit. If the jig wasn’t up before, it certainly was after that slip up. He glanced up from where he’d been studiously staring at the carpet, trying to gauge where this conversation was going. It seemed like the main goal was to embarrass him, maybe a way of bringing up the subject with less pressure for Jake, but after you’ve seen Chris Argent wash a window in a way that suggests he’s planning a homicide you start to leave open the possibility that any mild interaction could be a threat.

“So you’re...what? Coyote? Fox?”

“Werewolf,” Jake frowned, “Thought that was clear when I said ‘we’.”

“Well, I don’t know!” Stiles squawked, and flung his hands out wide, “Maybe it was the royal ‘we’! Maybe it was shifter solidarity! Maybe you’re a hunter just fucking with me!”

Jake snorted, “Yeah, okay.”

“Just...can you give it back please?”

Jake hummed, scrolling down further and tilting his head back and forth.

“No, I don’t think I will. There’s more I want to tell you about.”

He swung his feet down, off the bed, and leaned forward, eyes still locked on the screen. If it was even possible at this point, Stiles felt his cheeks get hotter, and the shame in his throat rose higher.

“For example, the whole scent marking thing? Not a thing. Like, if I’m rubbing come into somebody’s skin, it’s because I want them to feel dirty, not because any other wolf would even think twice about the smell,” he glanced up, caught Stiles’ eye, “Humans smell like cum a hundred percent of the time.”

“You, uh...you smelled me on your bed, didn’t you?”

“Uh huh. And in yours, and in the shower, and all of today. You’re a real sexually active guy, huh?”

“No, not, uh…” Stiles swallowed, “No.”

Jake raised his eyebrows at him, but it didn’t feel at all like genuine curiosity. That motherfucker.

“Really? You must be pretty needy by now, then. That’s why you’re reading this stuff, I guess.”

“Jake, I…” He struggled to get his feet back under him, to pull something cohesive together in reply, and mostly succeeded in glaring at the phone with all his power, like he could summon it to him by sheer force of will. “What’s the point of all this?”

He set the phone down, finally, and pulled himself up to standing, so much taller like this with Stiles still hunched over on his own bed, and he stepped into Stiles’ space. Stiles tipped his chin back to look up at him, his head rolled back onto his shoulders and neck a long arc. Jake reached out and laid a hand on his face, just slowly enough that Stiles could see the tips of his claws peeking out of his fingers before they slipped out of view, and when skin made contact with skin and those same claws lighted on the edges of his jaw, his eyes shut automatically. He breathed, slow and even.

“It’s a lot of fun to watch you squirm,” Jake said, and his voice still didn’t show any real sign that he was affected by the topic of discussion, “Thought maybe you’d be interested in doing it in my bed when I’m actually here, for once.”

There it was. He’d wanted a ride on this horse, and Jake was offering it, free and clear. His dad’s scornful voice rattled around in the back of his head, as well as the silence or strange looks from friends when he’d brought up the possibility of liking men before. Jokingly, sure, but...he carried those reactions with him.

Louder, though, was a voice suspiciously like his own which was focused keenly on the points of contact he had with Jake--the hand on his face, the touch of his knees against Jake’s, the brush of one of his hands against the slippery nylon of Jake’s shorts. He ached with a need to be closer, and he knew without a doubt that Jake didn’t care, wouldn’t care, about the crisis he was having. Jake just wanted to fuck him. Simple as that.

“Yeah,” he said, and then swallowed when he heard the rough sandpaper quality his voice had taken on.

“Open your eyes, then.” His voice was hard, unyielding, so Stiles did. “What’s on the table here?”

“I don’t...know.”

Jake smirked, and dropped a light kiss on Stiles’ forehead. His breath caught in his throat, one more feeling to focus on.

“Do you want to try something like in that book? Do you want me to hold you down and take it from you?” Every few words he dropped another kiss, working his way down the side of Stiles’ face towards his neck, and with some of the intensity shifted away Stiles’ eyes opened and drifted to the side, landed on the bed where he’d taken himself in hand so many times before. “I have to say, I’m not really into the other way around, if you were hoping for that.”

“No. I mean...yeah. Hold me down.”

The voice sounded like it came from someone else.

“And? Anything else we should re-enact?”

“I want...could you…”

The hand on his cheek tightened, Jake’s thumb sliding over his mouth and then onto the other side so he was holding Stiles’ face in a tight grip, and he moved his gaze back to meet Stiles’ head on. His eyes were narrowed, every inch a threat now, and he shook Stiles’ head a little for emphasis.

“Use your words.”

He shuddered through a deep breath in, a shallow one out. Tried not to flinch away from the stern look.

“In the story. The alpha. He’d...he was always...wolfed out. They don’t get it right, what wolves look like, but…”

A sparkle of mischief broke through Jake’s badass act, and he leaned in closer.

“You’d be up for that?”

“Please,” he whispered, and then he was on his back, bouncing a little against the mattress, and Jake was over him. His weight held Stiles fast underneath him, unable to even wiggle into a better position, and his hand was still on Stiles’ face as he finally kissed his mouth, starting out deep and rough, like he didn’t really need or expect Stiles to kiss back. His free hand skated down Stiles’ side and then rucked up under his shirt, and the claws were all the way out now, leaving long prickling lines on the surface of his skin. His dick, still hard against his thigh, was now joined by Jake’s pressed against his belly and feeling impossibly huge. He didn’t really know how big was actually big--porn was a useless metric--but he knew that he liked this one, liked the heft of it as Jake rolled his hips and dug it into the soft flesh of his stomach.

He whimpered, and thrust up, as much as he could in the space given. Jake snickered and pulled back.

“Eager, aren’t you?”

His eyes burned gold and when he grinned his teeth were numerous and sharp, bookended on each side by long canines. Stiles whimpered again and stilled, feeling overwhelmed and so turned on and completely out of control of the situation.

“I’m not going to last long,” he said, and then blushed when he realized it had been out loud.

“God,” Jake sounded breathless too, finally, and he reached forward to run his teeth along Stiles’ lips, “This really gets you going, doesn’t it?”

“Y-yeah.” Stiles brought his hands up to grip at Jake’s shoulders, something to ground him in the moment. “You look...dangerous.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

Stiles nodded.

“Awesome. Cause I think I like feeling dangerous.”

He reached between them, palming first himself and then Stiles, and every place he'd kissed before he went back over with nips and bites and drags of teeth. Their shorts were easy to shove down and then there was a hot hand on Stiles’ dick and he arced off the bed as much as he could in the space allowed him.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” he groaned. Jake started up a steady pace, pushing the foreskin up over the head to collect the precum and then down, over and over. Stiles felt frantic with it, wholly disoriented and swept away, as he dug his heels into the mattress in order to push even harder into Jake. For his part, Jake wrapped a strong hand around Stiles’ hip and shoved him down, pinning him to the bed without any noticeable exertion, and Stiles groaned low in his throat at the thought.

His pace sped up, responding maybe to the steady stream of curses falling from Stiles’ lips, or maybe to the frantic way he fought that strong hand on him, and then Jake bit down with human teeth on Stiles’ chest, hard but not enough to break skin, mean but not quite cruel, and Stiles came, all over Jake’s fist and their chests, and the sheets to either side of him. He panted as he came down, open-mouthed, and stared at Jake’s face when it pulled up and into view.

“Quick,” Jake said.

“Oh fuck you,” Stiles laughed, “It was amazing, and you know it.”

Jake kissed him, lazily, his own hips still dragging against Stiles’ oversensitive flacid dick, and then hiked his legs up, settling in a sitting position on top of Stiles’ thighs. He looked impossibly tall like that, an imposing figure, and when he squeezed his thighs closer he trapped Stiles’ legs under him.

“Stay still,” he said, hand already on himself, “I mean it.”

A shiver raced down Stiles’ spine, but he froze all the same. It was so much different from his normal response--usually getting up in the face of whatever monster was threatening him and shouting--but he found he liked it. This was safe, Jake was safe, and so he could follow the order.

He really wanted to follow his orders.

Jake shuffled forward, still pulling on himself, until he was over Stiles’ ribs, and then he swore and hunched forward, and he spilled his satisfaction onto Stiles, who opened his mouth almost on reflex to catch some of it. Most landed on his face and neck, painted across his cheeks and in his hair, and Jake smiled down at him and ran a hand through his bangs in the front, roughly, like proving a point.

“I think we’ve got something good here, man,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~This is mostly finished! I say mostly because I'm maybe three scenes short of being done, but I wanted to share the first chapter anyway as a way to get myself motivated and pallete cleanse after the novel I just finished elsewhere. I need to write about werewolves like others need air. Anywho...~~
> 
>  
> 
> ~~There is one more chapter totally complete, and a third one partially done, and then that should be it for this series. Should have it all up by Sunday, fingers crossed.~~
> 
>  
> 
> I lied. Or rather, I went back through what I had written and realized it was mostly aimless wank. Sure, I had fun writing about Stiles exploring his sexuality in college, but it wouldn't resolve itself into a real ending and no one cares as much about Jake Bolanos as I do so...yeah. This should stay how it is.


End file.
